


the emerald tiger

by bukkunkun



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, High Fantasy, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, southeast asian culture heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 19:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10770717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: the story of Phichit Chulanont, the Kuman Thong,and how he lost everything he knew,met a god,and found a friend.set in the same universe asthe summer bride, once sold as a con-exclusive book at the 2017 YOIConPH. Print edition includes artwork by the amazing@cakeprilon twitter.





	the emerald tiger

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the summer bride](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838700) by [bukkunkun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun). 



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DEAREST SON PHICHIT CHULANONTTTTTT 
> 
> IT'S ALSO @cakepril'S BIRTHDAY TOO!! GO GREET HER AND RT HER PHICHIT FANART OVER ON TWITTER!!!
> 
> Inspired by Michael Christian Martinez (PHI)'s SP program last season! [Mood music here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZeifT-ZpQC4), [4cc performance here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cUwJ4YE0AU&t=241s)!
> 
> WOKAY SO I SOLD THE SUMMER BRIDE AS A BOOK AT THE LATEST YOICONPH AND IT'S STILL AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE IF YOU'RE IN THE PHILIPPINES! CONTACT ME FOR DETAILS ~~and maybe strike up a, , ,,, , , commission, ,,, or smth,,, ,~~ but the details are on my Twitter, specifically [these](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/842382466975375360) [tweets](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/845131349933490176)!
> 
> **YOU WILL NEED TO HAVE READ[THE SUMMER BRIDE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8838700/chapters/20266831) TO UNDERSTAND THIS, SOMEWHAT. YOU HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED.**

In a mountain basin far to the north of the Northern Kingdom, far from the reach of the Iron Emperor, was a beautiful little emerald village, blessed by the sun and rains, that flourished and bloomed like small springtime wildflowers along a dirt road. It was said it was loved by the spirits that governed the region, and in that little village lived a golden boy.

The young man was very well-loved, a darling of all who lived in it, and he flourished day by day, basking in the warm kiss of the summer sun, dancing with the leaves in the evening.

Phichit was a happy, bright boy, and his village loved him, but there was a catch.

The young man smiled at a pair of little children struggling to carry an overflowing bucket of water with them. The older child, a little girl at 8, practically waddled along, carrying most of the weight her little 6-year-old brother could not carry, and he watched amusedly as they slowly made their way from the river back home.

“The water is lovely and clear today, isn’t it?” Phichit said, walking alongside them, “Naam, you look like you need help.”

Naam, quickly becoming an evidently strong girl, carried on.

“Your little brother is struggling a little.” Phichit continued, and he walked ahead of them. “Hm, let me clear your way for you?”

The siblings were making a beeline for a sharp rock along the road. Against any adult Phichit’s age, it would prove to be nothing more than a slight nuisance, but Naam and her brother were barefoot, and children’s skin was much, _much_ more delicate than an adult’s.

The young man whistled softly, and the wind blew to answer his call. A leaf popped off a tree and hit the little girl square in the face. Naam squealed, and veered off to the side, avoiding the rock, but their bucket swayed precariously, and Phichit jumped.

“Wait! Let me get that for you!” he dove forward, swaying the bucket forward to keep the water in, and the two siblings finally put it down, panting. “There you go.” Phichit laughed, panting slightly. “That was a bit dangerous, wasn’t it?”

Naam looked at her little brother.

“Sorry, a leaf hit my face.” She said, “Still, we’re really lucky we didn’t spill the water! Mama would get so mad!”

Her brother nodded. “C’mon, let’s get home, I wanna eat the mangoes!”

“Sure, sure!” Naam giggled, before pressing her hands together. “But first, we say thank you!”

“R-right!” the two children bowed forward.

“Thank you for your guidance, Golden Spirit!” they chirped together, before picking up the bucket again and going along their merry way, completely passing by Phichit, unmindful of his presence.

The young man made a move to reach out towards them, but he stopped, and deflated.

His town was grateful, his town loved him, and gave him the reverence he needed to survive, but they could not see him. They couldn’t hear him, and they never knew he was there, standing right next to them, wishing every day of his life they would at least look his way.

The humans called him a Kuman Thong, their own golden boy in their ancient tongue, and he brought them luck and fortune in exchange for their reverence. His body was in the village’s tiny temple, adopted by their local priest to worship, and it was covered in what little gold the village could scrape together from the river that went through their mountain basin.

Phichit sighed softly to himself, and headed back into the village after Naam and her brother. The sky above them, peeking through the canopies of trees that towered over them in the mountains, steadily began to turn orange, and Phichit realised it was time for the humans to rest. He walked on after the two children, making sure they made it safely home, before he headed back to his body inside the temple.

He found his priest sitting on a creaky wicker chair, nursing a cup of tea in his hand as he hummed an old hymn softly. Phichit smiled at him thankfully as he could feel strength seep into his body, and he settled down next to the old man on the soil, sighing out his exhaustion as the two of them watched the village settle into rest in the deep darkness of the isolated basin.

“Somchai, another day went by.” He said, the crackle of flames in the village square their backdrop as he talked. Chickens and livestock hurried by him, an exasperated teen girl doing her best to corral them back near her home, and Phichit smiled fondly. “No one saw me again today.”

He whistled softly, and the chickens turned their heads to look at him. He gave them a small wave. “Back home, now. Don’t cause Kanya too much trouble.” They clucked at him in understanding, and the young woman let out a grateful grumble when they finally all headed back into their coop all on their own. The two goats and cow stared at them, and Phichit laughed. “You three, too.”

They did as they were told when Kanya told them to, and the young girl pressed her hands together, bowing lowly. “Thank you, Golden Spirit.” She said, and gave Somchai a respectful bow before hurrying on home.

Somchai smiled softly, and nodded after her, before getting up slowly. Phichit got up to help him onto his feet, and the old man laughed, his voice hoarse from age and fondness.

“Oh, Kuman Thong,” he said, “Don’t you worry about me. Rest up now,” he looked up at the sky. “There is a storm brewing.”

Phichit looked to where the old man did, and frowned. “Monsoon? It's too soon.”

The old man didn't reply to him, and slowly hobbled back inside the temple to retire in his quarters. Phichit watched him leave, crestfallen.

“Somchai,” he said softly. “I've been with you since you were a little boy. Why can't you still see me?”

Somchai did not reply, as with any of his humans at home, and Phichit deflated, turning to head into the village square to wait for dawn to come. He sat down right in the middle of it, sighing, and he looked up at the sky, at the round, shining silver moon, and counted the stars in the sky.

Another lonely night, he thought. Life was good here, at home, but what good was it to be invisible to anyone? To not be alone but be extremely lonely?

Could these people live without him? They probably could. But he could not live without them. Without their veneration, their worship and thanks, Phichit was nothing. He would be as dead as the leaves he danced with.

The spirit hugged his knees close to himself. What of him, then? What could he do?

Midnight rolled by and Phichit realised the moonlight was hidden from him. The cool silver glow around him was replaced with deep darkness, and Phichit looked up to see storm clouds above him.

“A storm.” He breathed, “Somchai was right.”

He got up hurriedly and headed towards the homes to make sure the villagers were safe. He quickly hooked ropes into their proper places, and stabbed poles deeper into the ground, and when he finished, he looked up at the sky again to watch the first few droplets of water fall onto the earth.

“Monsoon is early this year.” He hummed, sighing as he leant under the shade his temple offered, and he rubbed his arms to warm himself up. It was cold, yes, but Phichit didn’t feel like coming inside. It didn’t feel _right_.

The rain was soft and gentle, as it always was, and Phichit could feel himself relaxing at the sound of relaxing raindrops, when suddenly a deafening roar shook the mountain. He jumped, the flash of a lightning strike flooding his world in a short, frightening moment of stark clarity, and he _swore_ he saw an emerald tiger standing in the rain, in the middle of the square, looking right at him with eyes the colour of cut gemstones.

His eyes widened, and the tiger disappeared as fast as it appeared.

There was a long stretch of time where nothing happened, only that the rain fell harder, and Phichit eventually made his way to where the tiger had stood, legs stiff with shock and bewilderment. He stood there, blinking as the rain soaked him through, and he simply waited.

And waited, and waited, and there it was again. A loud, terrible roar that shook the mountain, the valley and the river, the forest trees and the rain itself shivering at its sheer power, and lightning struck once more. Phichit whirled around as his world exploded in light once more, the blast hitting behind him, and he gasped when he saw his temple catch fire.

“No!” he screamed, “S-Somchai!”

He ran towards the temple, but the flames proved too much for him, the rain and his tears obscuring his vision as emerald fire leaped up to the sky like a dance of burning veneration.

He knew this power—the power of gods, of the inevitability of godly will, and Phichit, a mere spirit, could not compare. He couldn’t interfere with whatever it was the god—the emerald tiger—had in store.

Its roar rang in his ears, haunting him as the fire roared on despite the rain, eventually abating as dawn crept into the sky once more. Phichit fell to his knees, mud sullying his clothes as he buried his face in his hands, sobbing.

All the luck and fortune he could bring wasn’t enough to save a single man’s life. The only person he’d been with the whole time, who took the time to talk to him, despite not seeing him. He couldn’t do anything, because the emerald tiger wished it, and the powerlessness was _crushing_.

The village stirred to life around him, and he could hear the shock and horror of his people as they saw their temple desecrated, once a humble, red landmark, now a pile of rubble.

Somchai, at least, had finally been put to rest, but so was his body. Phichit had no means—no _reason_ to stay here any longer.

It was like a dam bursting, Phichit realised, and he could feel the grief that had swept over the village like the torrent of rain the night before. He flinched, shaking his head as he got back up onto his feet shakily, backing away from the crowd that had gathered at the ruined temple, and he could hear their voices like hushed thoughts in the back of his mind.

_Where was the Golden Spirit?_

_Why didn’t he protect him?_

_Have we not done our part in serving him?_

Phichit shook his head, pressing his hands over his ears. “No, it wasn’t my fault. I-I didn’t mean to—it wasn’t me,”

He could feel strength seeping from him, and quickly. Their faith was wavering. His powers were dwindling.

His eyes prickled with tears. What had he done to deserve this? What did that emerald tiger want from him?

From the mountaintop he heard another terrible, earth-shaking roar, and the trees shivered, the air shimmering with a power far greater than his own. Phichit jumped, and his people looked far above them again.

“The rumble of thunder.” Someone said, “Monsoon is here.”

Phichit looked at them forlornly. He needed to find that emerald tiger—he needed _answers_.

“You all can live without me, can’t you?” He smiled sadly, and he knew the sensation on his cheeks were now tears that rolled down his face. They dropped off his skin as tiny diamonds, sparkling green and silver in the sunlight as they tumbled to the ground, but he paid them no attention. “Even without Somchai, without my help—humans are wonderful like that.” He took a shaky sigh, laughing weakly as he wiped at his eyes, and more diamonds tumbled to the ground. “You’ll find some way to survive, I know you all can.”

He watched them find Somchai’s body, alongside his body, and his heart shattered.

“Yeah.” He sighed, turning away. “So, this is goodbye, everyone. Live happily, and take care of each other, now that I’m gone.”

* * *

The trek up the mountain was tortuous, severely depleted of his strength and fighting against the elements, but Phichit made it to the top, where the clouds kissed the trees and their fruit, and the sun shone even brighter than he knew. He stumbled into a clearing, leaning heavily against a mossy stone as he choked on his breaths, gulping in air as best as he could.

Spirits like him could die, he knew. They were not gods, nor should they wish to be, but the march towards death was more painful, a Herculean task that demanded so much and awarded so little.

Phichit struggled to pull himself along towards where he heard the roar come from, but he stumbled over a protruding root, and he crashed into a tree. He let out a shout of pain, but he couldn’t find the strength in him to lift himself off the painful bark digging into him. His world began to darken at the edges, and he felt despair creeping up his throat.

So this was it, then.

He slumped down onto the forest floor, the grass and leaves crunching under his body, and he fell under—

Only to feel a warm, furry body press against his side, and strength surged back into his body. He jolted, yelling out in pain again, as he curled closer to the warmth the body offered him, shaking terribly as a divine power filled him once more. When the spasms finally died down, Phichit lay still, panting heavily, until he mustered the strength to look up at what he was clinging to.

Emerald green fur. Obsidian stripes. Eyes, the colour of cut gemstones.

Phichit gaped. “The emerald tiger.”

The tiger got up from where it was sitting next to the spirit, and expectantly looked at him. Phichit got onto his feet shakily, and when he stumbled, the tiger let him cling onto it. He’d never met a god before, let alone hold one like this. He let it lead him onwards through the mountain top, until they came to the highest point of the mountain, letting Phichit see a clear view of what lay beyond it.

Far below them were vast lands of both green and brown, and Phichit gasped at an ominous castle in the distance. “What’s… that?” he asked, looking at the tiger.

 _The Iron Fortress,_ it whispered in his head. _But you will get there in time._

Phichit looked at it worriedly. “What do you want with me, exalted?”

 _Exalted_ , he said. He hadn’t use that word in years— _ever_ , even.

_No, my child. I should ask what it is you want with me._

Phichit jumped away from the tiger, and it looked at him sedately. “I-I was perfectly happy with my village! Somchai is a good priest, they worshipped me well enough—”

 _You were unhappy and wanted a friend._ The emerald tiger said. _The village was a good place to you, but you are destined to be elsewhere._

Phichit deflated. “I’ve never gone beyond my home.”

The tiger nodded slowly, and sat down comfortably on the grass.

 _Somewhere in the southernmost border of this kingdom is a lonely young man, just like you._ It said, not quite answering his admission directly. _He needs a friend, as much as you need one._

The tiger patted the earth next to it with a monstrous paw.

 _His family was blessed for a destiny far too great for a single man to bear._ Phichit settled down next to the tiger, and it purred in amusement. _But a friend is a weight divided, and he could use the luck you bring._ It nuzzled Phichit’s side, and looked at him expectantly. _How does a new friend sound to you?_

Phichit blinked at it. “Will he see me?” He asked meekly.

 _I have confidence in his power._ The emerald tiger replied. _He is young, but he will learn, in time. His sister is powerful, but I know he will grow even more so. The gods have placed you there by his side to bring him to his destiny, and I am here to bring that to fruition._

The Kuman Thong looked down at his hands, balled into loose fists on his lap, his clothes still stained with mud and soil from his village, and he sighed.

“What about my village?”

 _I will take care of them._ The tiger rose from its perch, and strode forward to the very edge of the ledge, right on top of a straight plummet down into a ravine. _Didn’t you say so yourself, that humans are wonderful, fragile little things that could find some way to survive?_

Phichit could hear the fond amusement in its voice.

 _They’re the most wonderful things the gods have made to walk this blessed earth. Keeps things interesting._ Phichit approached it at the edge, unsure, and it looked at him. _I will take you to him myself, Kuman Thong. You may ride on my back._

Phichit nodded numbly, and he straddled the tiger. “Exalted?” he asked gingerly, his hands balling into fists in the tiger’s green fur.

_Yes, my child?_

“What’s his name?” he asked. “The… person in the south?”

The tiger chuckled softly.

_Hold on._

Phichit dove forward, burying his face in the soft, warm fur of the emerald tiger, and he could hear thunderclaps and the roar of rain around him as they lurched forward. He could feel the tiger’s muscles shift under its skin as it ran along the clouds, the monsoon rains on its heels as the God of rain carried the golden spirit to the south, where the climate was colder, and water flew from the earth in hot, angry pillars of steam and heat.

 _My child,_ the tiger suddenly said, and Phichit’s head shot up to see they were flying in the eye of a thunderstorm, the rain soaking Phichit through, washing away the last of the mud of his village from his clothes. Far below them, he could see a tall building with several pointed roofs, far taller than anything Phichit had ever seen before. He let out a gasp that was drowned out by the roar of the tiger as they began their descent. He buried his face in the tiger’s oddly dry fur, as he listened to it speak, ever clear and calm in his head. _Welcome to Hasetsu, land of ice and snow._

The emerald tiger landed on the red tiled roof of the building, paws not skidding on the wet clay as it let Phichit climb off it, gaping at the massive structure below him.

 _This is Yu-topia, where your friend lives. This place is blessed by the gods and the spirits themselves, you will find yourself at home here._ It told him. _May you find happiness here._

“Wait,” Phichit said, reaching out at the tiger as he tried not to slip on the shingles. He pushed his hair out of his face as the rain continued to fall in torrents over them, but only Phichit was the one soaked to the bone. The emerald tiger, untouchable as the God-Beast of monsoon, remained dry and stable. “His name. You never told me his name.”

The emerald tiger seemed to smile at him and Phichit felt himself begin to fall.

 _Yuuri Katsuki_. It said. _May your luck guide his way, my golden child._

Phichit’s eyes widened, and his grip loosened on the shingles. He managed to meet eyes with the emerald tiger one last time, and it bowed its head at him as he dropped straight down like a stone.

* * *

“The rain’s so heavy, where’d it come from?” His sister’s voice was exasperated, as their footsteps peppered the bamboo hallways. The two siblings ran along the walls, pulling all the window shutters shut, all the while taking care not to slip on the wetness caused by the rain. “It's not monsoon yet right?”

“Don't think so, Mari.” her brother replied. “It doesn't even rain that often in Hasetsu.”

Mari frowned, wringing out her hair, shaking her hand at him, and he laughed brightly, leaning away from her. She grinned slightly. “Do you think it's a rain spirit, Yuuri?”

“Huh,” Yuuri hummed. “I don't think a rain spirit would need a bath house.”

“You never know.” Mari huffed. “C’mon. Let's tell mom we’re done here.”

“Oh, wait there's another balcony.” Yuuri said, “You go on ahead. I'll catch up.”

Mari gave him a mock salute, and headed away, as Yuuri approached the balcony. He sighed fondly as he stepped outside, standing just beyond the reach of the storm, and he smiled.

It was odd to see rain in the land of snow, but it was nice while it lasted. It was peaceful, somehow, despite the lightning, and Yuuri could stand there the whole evening—

When he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a tiger’s roar, and the thud-thud-thud of something on the roofs. Yuuri’s eyes widened as he hurried forward, and he suddenly slipped on the slippery varnished wood. He tipped over, arms waving wildly as he tried to keep his balance when suddenly a body dropped on him.

Yuuri flailed as he hit the floor, and he whirled around to realise nothing had fallen onto him, and his head spun. “What's—what's going on—”

He could hear something, faintly, a voice, maybe, but he wasn't sure. Yuuri shakily got back up on his feet in time to see Mari appear at the doorway, her silhouette making a clear mark against the warm, orange light of the bathhouse interior. “Mari?” He slicked back his hair, and he heard her tutting.

“Yuuri, what the hell are you doing out in the rain?” Mari scolded him, beckoning him back into the warm dryness of their home. “Here, take this towel.” She shoved it onto her little brother’s head and pushed him along. “Go take a bath and warm yourself up! I'll finish up here instead.”

“Thanks, Mari!” Yuuri’s voice was muffled by he towel and the distance, and he slid the paper screen door shut behind him as he headed back downstairs. The older Katsuki looked back out on the balcony, and sighed exasperatedly at the sight of the spirit that had fallen onto Yuuri, sitting in the middle of the rain, bewilderment clear on his face as she looked back at him.

“So, you.” She said, and the spirit jumped, before he pointed at himself. “Yeah, you.” Mari’s smile was lopsided as she beckoned him over. “The rain will only get colder. There's snow around these parts and you'll just downright freeze out there.”

“You can see me?” The spirit asked instead, and Mari realised this was not the usual _yousei_ Yu-topia handled on a daily basis. She smiled slightly and nodded. “ _You can see me._ ”

“I know not a lot of people can.” Mari nodded. “Let’s continue this inside?”

The spirit beamed at her widely, and Mari wasn't sure if it was the rain or if he was crying.

(If she heard any diamonds dropping to the ground, she would not say a word.)

He approached her meekly, and she offered him her hand. “I'm Mari. Mari Katsuki. The guy who _caught_ you is my little brother—”

“Yuuri.” The spirit said. “Yuuri Katsuki.” He shook her hand timidly.

“Yep.” Mari nodded, also offering him a towel, albeit more gently than she had with her brother. “Welcome to Yu-topia Onsen. We're kind of the only onsen in Hasetsu to accommodate spirits, too.” She explained. “What's your name, by the way?”

“Phichit. My name is Phichit,” he said, finally smiling, and Mari had never seen so much _relief_ in a smile. “I'm here to bring you and your family all the luck in the world.”

Mari hummed, and she nodded. “Nice to meet you, Phichit. Here, I'll show you the baths and I'll let Yuuri know you exist. I think the two of you will be good friends.”

Phichit deflated slightly, but he did not look sad. The smile never left his face, and he nodded.

“I think so, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> the paper fortress, or the monstrous projected novel-length victyuuri story of this AU is coming, eventually, as a paperback book for sale, hopefully?? ? ?? ???? ? ? ? please watch out for it!


End file.
